Babes and Bullets
by Hurricane's Quill
Summary: Erk has been killed, and his wife Priscilla decides to call on PI Trent the Timberwolf to investigate. The aforementioned may have not had things going to well for him, but he did have one thing: Ninian, his secretary who made a killer cup of coffee...
1. The Case

The dust had to be an inch thick on my desk. A thick layer of papers was forming around the trash can. An empty bottle of vodka lay on the floor next to the couch where I had a recent business engagement.

"Coffee, Trent?"

Ninian wasn't much on keeping an office clean, but she_ could_ make a killer cup of coffee. I still remember the day she came in looking for work. The dust had to be a half an inch thick on my desk. A thin layer of papers was forming around the trash can. A half-empty bottle of vodka sat on the floor next to the couch of which I had a recent business engagement.

Ninian wanted to be a secretary. She had all the requirements: A really sexy body, and the ability to make an awesome cup of coffee. I gave her the job. That was yesterday.

San Badon is a beautiful city… the carriages, fog rolling off the bay, the wharf. God, I wish I lived there.

But I don't. Being a P.I. with a name like Trenton the Timberwolf isn't easy. The pay stinks, the hours are long, and there's no one, repeat _no one_, you can trust. It isn't pretty. But, I've got what it takes. I've got babes and bullets… and, I look good in a trench coat.

"More coffee, Trent?"

Today was a slow day. The hours seemed to drag by like a Blackhawks vs. Aztecs double-header. I decided to get a phone. I was about to leave… when SHE appeared.

Holy Saint Elimine, what lottery did my eyes just win? Her hair was flame red, with a small white feather tucked amidst it. She was wearing a white and green dress that swayed in the breeze like weeping willows… near a pond between Texas and Louisiana… where'd I go? Oh yeah, the broad. She was cute.

"Are you the Timberwolf?"

I can never answer that question.

So, why'd she decide to see me? What mysterious problem drove her to my office? There were hundreds of Private Investigators in San Badon with better offices than mine. I decided to find out…

"So, what brings you to my humble abode? There are hundreds of P.I.'s in town with better offices than mine. Who are you?"

"My husband was murdered. You're cheap. I'm Priscilla Santaruz. Will you take the case?"

I had to think about i- "SURE!"

"How do you like your services paid, Mr. Timberwolf?"

"That'd be awesome!"

My mind was off like a Sacaean after a rabbit. She was attractive and _young_. And judging by her clothes, she was tapping the big bucks. How'd she get her hands on someone like that? Of course! It's so simple. She marries an old guy, has him snuffed, and gets the inheritance. She hires a second rate investigator, doublecrosses him, and ends up scot-free.

"How old was your husband, Mrs. Santaruz?"

"23."

Now I understood. Her husband was a ladies' man. Probably had women up every alley. She finds he's unfaithful to their marriage and kills him. She hires a second rate detective to take the case, doublecrosses him, and gets away scot-free. The oldest sham in the book.

"What did your husband do for a living, Mrs. Santaruz?"

"He was a mage."

"Was he high class?"

"No."

Hold fast a moment. Something went wrong there.

"Wait, doll. I thought mages of a lower class weren't allowed to be married to a noble such as yourself."

"I am a vassal in service to Count Caerlon of Etruia, Mr. Timberwolf."

Now that was understandable.

"Call me Trent, please. What makes you think he was murdered?"

"He drove off Old Mountain Road, Trent Please. That's 40 miles away. He had no reason to be there. Besides, he was an excellent driver."

Her lips began to tremble. I took her hands in mine and said,

"Go home, kid. I'll take the case. I'll call you if I get something."

Why someone would murder a low class mage was beyond me. Still, I've seen stranger things in San Badon before.


	2. On to the Morgue

My first stop was the city morgue. It'd be a few days before the funeral, so the body still should be in the condition it was found in. The story Priscilla told me sounded like more than a big accident. But, her sincerity was no act. She believed her husband was murdered. She didn't know how or why, but then, that's my job.

It was 11:00 AM.

Walking up the steps to the morgue, I met an old adversary. It was Lieutenant Raymond. Most people called him Raven. He always gave me bad luck.

"Timberwolf! What brings you here? Trying to find a client?"

"Sure, Lieutenant. He's one of your blue boys shot in the back for J-walking."

"Watch it, Timberwolf. Remember, your license is still under investigation."

"Oh, right. Well, at least I know it's safe for a while."

"Don't push me, Timberwolf!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Raven. Have a nice day!"

The Lieutenant was still saying his goodbyes when I walked into the morgue. I spotted an old friend, Heath Laus. He'd been working there for as long as I've been in San Badon.

"Trent, what brings you here?"

"Hey, Heath, I need to see a body."

"Who doesn't, eh, Trent? What's the name?"

"Mage Santaruz."

"Oh, yeah! Tough break… nice guy…"

"You knew him?"

"Not really. I attended his church, Sacred Light, for about the last six months. We'd talk occasionally after services."

I could tell Heath sort of liked the fella by the way he pulled out the drawer with the stiff.

Santaruz looked like he'd been worked over by the Assassins of Araphen. It didn't surprise me. What was a guy supposed to like when he goes through a guardrail fence and down a mountain canyon in his car? If his body hadn't been thrown out by the impact, it would have burned up when the car caught fire and exploded.

"When's the autopsy scheduled, Heath?"

"Autopsy, what autopsy?"

"His wife thinks it's murder, Heath."

"Murder! Trent, the man died in a catastrophic car accident! It's as simple as that!"

"Heath, if things were as simple as that, I wouldn't have a job."

Looking down at Santaruz, I noticed some yellowish brown coloration on his chest and stomach.

"Hey, Heath. Do you have any explanation for this?" I pointed at the pigment in question.

"Oh, could be almost anything. Transmission fluid, brake fluid, any liquid from a car could make a stain like that."

"Do you have his clothes or anything of that nature?"

"Oh, sure, Trent. Here."

He handed me a bag containing his badly ripped and bloodstained clothes. I looked for anything that would suggest murder. Right now, it looked like poor Santaruz just had bad luck on the mountain.

His shirt was the only thing recognizable. It had the same stains on it like those on the body. I'd seen them before, but from where? Maybe something would come later.

The pockets had nothing of value, except for a curious stone in the vest pocket amidst the rubble from the fall. It was colorful on one side, like it was painted.

The phone rang. As Heath went to answer it, I stowed the stone in my own pocket. I dunno why, maybe I just liked rocks.

Heath hung up the phone and asked if I needed anything else.

"A clue, a motive, and a murderer. Goodnight Heath."

"Trent…"

"Yeah?"

"It's noon."

Next on the list was Mage Santaruz's church. I was still only couple of blocks away when brushed by a big goon with fists the size of babies. He grabbed my throat, dragged into a darkened alley, and punched me into next year. As I lay there in a crumpled heap, I smiled. I must be on the right track to get a beating from this Neanderthal. I reset my jaw and pointed the finger of authority at my assailant.

"So, Geitz… I suppose you have a message for me."

"Yeah, I'm your landlord. You're two months late with the rent."

"Right."


	3. Erk's Church

I was still trying to find my landlord's involvement with this caper when I arrived at Sacred Light. I was greeted by an elderly man at the door.

"Are you the Father here?"

"Yes, but I have no children."

"What?"

"Sorry. That's a small, religious joke. Yes, I'm Mage Lundgren. How may I help you?"

"Trenton the Timberwolf, P.I." I held up my wallet.

"Nice wallet, Mr. P.I."

"I'd like to ask you a few questions about Mage Santaruz."

"Certainly, Mr. P.I. Why don't you come in?"

I entered the church and followed him to the kitchen. I sat at the table and he poured us a cup of coffee. I would have preferred to have my own cup.

"What would you like to know, Mr. P.I.?"

"Call me Trent. Was Santaruz a good driver?"

"Oh, yes. He was driver's training instructor at Pherae High during the summer months."

"Do you have any idea why Santaruz was on Old Mountain Road last Friday?"

"Yes, he was going to visit Hannah McFarr, one of the parishioners here at Sacred Light. She's a wealthy shaman who's been ailing of late."

"Why was he going there?"

"Hannah is a big contributor to the church. Santaruz called on her every Friday night to help in any way he can."

"Does anyone else know about this?"

"It is Hannah's wish that no one knows about these visits."

"Did he have any enemies?"

"What are you getting at, Trent?"

"Just the facts."

"Mage Santaruz was loved by everyone who knew him, especially the female parishioners."

"How's that?"

"Just that he was an attractive man and it was natural for women to be attracted to him."

Bingo!

"How old is Hannah McFarr?"

"93."

"Crud."

Father Lundgren shifted restlessly in his chair.

"Trent, I meant nothing carnal by my statement. However, on more than one occasion Mage Santaruz had to put a woman's feeling in perspective."

"So, he never gave in to temptation?"

"Oh, no. His only weakness was coffee. I rarely saw him with out a cup of it in his hand."

"Yeah. Well, I think we all depend on a cup of Joe every now and again.

"Well, thanks for the information. And, no offense intended, but this is really lousy coffee."

"Yes, I admit my coffee needs work. The lady who normally made our coffee recently left us. She made excellent coffee. She'll be hard to replace. In fact, I find myself doing her duties more than my own."

"I see. Well, nice meeting you."

It was only a few blocks back to the office. When I arrived, the guys from the phone company were on their way out. Ninian was in the other room.

"No calls yet, Trent. How about some coffee?"

I sat my desk and stared at the new phone. I decided to call Priscilla and let her know about my progress on the case. Maybe she could help in a way.

"Hey, Ninian. What's Priscilla's number?"

"555-1234, Trent."

"Thanks."

The girl may have bad cleaning skills, but she had great memory. But why couldn't I remember that number? It sounded easy to remember.

"Hello, Priscilla? It's Trent."

"Mr. Timberwolf, what did you find out?"

"Not a lot, really. Look, I stopped by your husband's church and found out some interesting stuff."

"Really? Who'd you talk with?"

"One Mage Lundgren… you know him?"

"Of course, Mage Lundgren was my husband's assistant."

"A bit old to be an assistant, isn't he?"

"Oh, we never though of him as an assistant. He worked as hard as my husband. In fact, he's been with the congregation all his life."

Ninian was setting the coffee on the desk.

"Well, anyway, Priscilla. He mentioned your husband may have had some woman trouble at the church and…"

CRASH!

"Damn it! That's hot!"

Ninian had dropped the cup on my desk and into my lap. It was hot enough to match a mudslide. The cup had broken into several pieces.

"Trent, hello, Trent, are you okay?"

"Look, Priscilla, I'll call you back. We've got a bit of mess to clean up right now."

I hung up.

"Trent, I'm so sorry! I don't know what I was thinking about."

"It's okay, Ninian. Run downstairs and tell maintenance we need a mop and bucket. I'll get the mug."

I could tell she was really upset about it. Hell, it was only coffee. I'll fire her when she gets back. No problems.

I was soaked. I went to the sink to clean up. When I took off my vest, I found a huge stain on my shirt. Hold on… those were coffee stains on Mage Santaruz's body! Why would he wear a stained shirt? _And_, why am I talking to myself? I searched my vest for the stone I found earlier. I looked at it. It was painted all right… a painted piece of ceramic! Santaruz must have been drinking coffee, which caused the accident. But it wasn't steady ground. How was I supposed to go on a murder casewhen my only clue was a cup of java?

What was keeping Ninian? Funny, she isn't the awkward type. I'd better call Priscilla, apologize, and get back to the case. Where'd I put the number? Wait, Priscilla never gave me a number. Then how did Ninian know the number? Easy, Trent, don't go off the deep end. But the pieces were starting to come together. Ninian would know the number if Priscilla's _husband _gave her the number. Was she one of the infatuated women Mage Lundgren mentioned? Think, Trent, think. Yeah! She spilled the coffee when I mentioned Santaruz's woman trouble! Ninian made a great cup of coffee. So did the girl who left the church. The same girl I hired yesterday. A girl infatuated by a man she could never have.

So, what does she do? She spills coffee in his lap and drives him off a cliff… something's not right here.

"Here's maintenance, Trent."

It was Ninian with an old geezer carrying a mop and pail.

"I know you murdered Mage Santaruz, Ninian."

"What do you mean, Trent?"

"You loved him, he didn't love you, you couldn't have him, so… you killed him."

She fell to her knees sobbing. "Yes, I loved him, he didn't love me, I couldn't have him so…"

"So you what?"

"So I left."

"You left?"

"Yes, the thought of working so close to him and not being able to have him was too much to bear. So, I left. But, I didn't murder him."

The tears were really coming now. Maybe I was wrong.

"But, the coffee stains… the painted piece of ceramic?" I held the piece out to her.

"We talked a few nights before he died. We had some coffee," She stopped crying. "He liked my coffee."

I had to agree with Santaruz. Ninian made a killer cup of coffee.

"He always drank from his favorite mug. This looks like a piece of it. I don't know how it broke."

I just ran out of suspects.

"Ninian, did you have any other duties at Sacred Light?"

"I was his Girl Friday."

"You certainly weren't his Girl Saturday."

"Cork it, Trent."

"Sorry."

"I sorted his mail, answered the phone, filled his prescriptions, cleaned his robes…"

"Wait, filled his prescription?"

"Yes, Mage Santaruz was an insomniac. The coffee kept him awake. He needed very potent sleeping pills to help him go to sleep."

She looked out the window and smiled.

"I remember him bragging that one of those pills could knock out a bull elephant. It took two to put him to sleep, and that took an hour."

"Ninian, stay here and help maintenance clean up this mess."

"Where are you going?"

"To pick up a murderer, baby."


	4. Nabbing Time

I was packing my piece, though I was unsure I would need it. It was pouring rain outside. What the hell, I was just going a few blocks.

When arrived at Sacred Light, the marble steps looked cold and gray- almost depressing. Not a good look for a church.

It was 4:00 PM.

When I found Mage Lundgren, he was kneeling before the image of Saint Elimine. His head was bowed and his hands were clasped in prayer.

"Asking for forgiveness, Lundgren?"

He faced me. His eyes were red. Obviously, he had been crying for sometime.

"I'm not worthy of being a Father." He continued crying.

"Yeah, and you don't have the equipment to be a mother, either."

"What?"

"Sorry. That's a small, religious joke. Let's go."

By the time the paperwork was done, it was 8:00 PM. Lt. Raven was his usual charmer, as Lundgren was being booked. It had been a long day. I better check on Ninian. She was pretty shaken up when I left. As I walked back to the office, I noticed it stopped raining… it was snowing. I entered my office and found Priscilla Santaruz sitting on the couch, crying. She looked at me, hugged me for what seemed an eternity, handed me a small leather bag, and walked quietly out of my life.

"She called after you left." It was Ninian in the kitchen. "I told her you had gone to nab the murderer. She came right over."

I didn't answer. My thoughts were still in the arms of Priscilla. There had better be some gold in that bag.

"Trent, how did you know Mage Lundgren murdered Mage Santaruz?"

"Santaruz must have left directly from the church to call on Hannah McFarr that night, because he was drinking from his favorite mug when the crash occurred. Mage Lundgren, the substitute girl Friday, fixed that cup of coffee. Lundgren filled Santaruz's sleeping pill prescription and slipped a couple into his coffee, knowing it would take an hour to get to Old Mountain Road 40 miles away. Like clockwork, Santaruz fell asleep at the wheel and drove off the road. The motive was obvious."

"Which was?"

"It was the old power struggle at the church routine, Ninian. Old man gets passed over by younger man. Young man gets power, notoriety, women, money. Old man gets older, bitter. Finally, out of frustration. She gets rid of the only thing in his way… the young man. With Santaruz gone, Lundgren becomes pastor and gets what eluded him all his life."

Ninian came out of the kitchen carrying a bottle of my favorite vodka and two glasses.

"Trent, you're simply too much." She closed the door to the office.

"What's the vodka for, Ninian?"

She smiled, set the bottle on the floor next to the couch, and turned out the light.


End file.
